The Day I Return

The story of the day I return… The cabin lights had been turned off, and almost everyone was asleep. A few people were watching movies. I could neither sleep nor bring myself to watch anything. All I could think about was the moment of arrival. I had spent days and years full of pain and upheaval away from home. Somehow I had made it through. Then they announced that we were above Tehran and would land in a few minutes. My heart began to race. I looked out the window. We were still above the clouds. My eyes were full of tears, and I could barely see. We descended into the clouds, and… There was my land. Iran. I couldn’t believe it. I was trembling. I glanced around. This time, no one was scrambling to put on a headscarf. No one was anxious. No one was frowning. This time everyone was smiling. This time it was different. The plane landed, and the seatbelt signs went off. Why wasn’t anyone moving? Why wasn’t anyone speaking? The door opened, and it was as if… We entered the airport. The smell of Iran. Tears streamed down my face so hard I could barely see. Several beautiful women came forward and said, “Welcome to Tehran.” One had long, lovely hair. Another had tied hers up and fastened it with a beautiful clip. “I have my passport…” I began. “We know. Don’t worry. Please come this way.” No one frowned or treated us as though we owed them something. I don’t know why, but I wasn’t afraid. I joined the customs line. At the gate, a young man took my documents with a smile and said, “Welcome to Iran.” “You can go on in and enjoy yourself. Just apply for your new passport.” “That’s all?” He smiled. “I’m glad you’ve come back to our free Iran.” I couldn’t believe it. Our free Iran! This story will continue… Long live a free, united Iran. Long live the Shah.